


freedom bound

by flapkack (neverthepast)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Denial of Feelings, Edward Elric Is A Little Shit, Edward Elric Swears, Elements of 03 and Brotherhood, I'm Bad At Summaries, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, Worldbuilding, Xerxes | Cselkcess, there will be porn eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverthepast/pseuds/flapkack
Summary: Perfect beings had no gender. They were God’s image, the embodiment of the Truth. This was a belief of the alchemists and, therefore, a belief of the people of Xerxes. The desert society was built on the values of alchemy, and their most central value was that of equivalent exchange.This is what Ling was taught in his culture lessons. Well, “taught” is a loose word- more like he learned it by reading the encyclopedia volumes that Fu gruffly tossed his way every day. As a prince of Xing, he had to know as much as he possibly could about the countries that he would be dealing with when he became emperor- presuming, of course, that the twelfth in line for the throne would (could) ever secure the throne.Ling could. He had a plan.Xerxes had alchemy. Alchemy had- according to those books- Philosopher’s Stones. Philosopher’s Stones gave eternal life. Ling’s ailing father, the emperor of Xing, wanted life, more desperately than anything. And Ling? He wanted the throne.Ling needed a Philosopher’s Stone. So, Ling needed Xerxes.Simple.Of course, nothing ever turns out simply.





	freedom bound

_1900_

 

Sweat poured down her brow, and wispy chestnut hairs fell out of the bun and clung to her clammy skin. She laid in a birthbath, clutching the hand of her lover, her breath sawing in and out as the labor wracked her body.

 

The slavewoman screamed, her head thrown back. Birthblood bloomed, bright and fresh, in the pool. She convulsed. Van Hohenheim looked pained. He squeezed and kissed her hand, and grimaced when she moaned again. The birthslave, thigh deep in the wine-coloured water, knelt and lifted a baby from the pool.

 

“A boy, milord,” the old woman sloshed over and laid the squalling child in the Van’s arms. Tears ran down his face, and the Ishvalan slavewoman reached for the boy weakly.

 

“A boy, Van,” she breathed, smiling up at her lover. He leant down to her, and their foreheads met. He chuckled weakly. She took the boy and held him to her breast. Water lapped at his kicking legs.

 

Karima looked down at the boy, and his cries quieted. He blinked up at his parents. His brownish-red eyes matched his mother’s.

 

‘Hello, Amir. Amir Alphonse,” she cooed his name, Ishvalan and Xerxesian, those words the marriage that his parents could never have. She traced the curve of his chubby little chin with her hand. Van offered the boy his finger, and he took it with a baby’s vice grip. He smiled, joyous, eyes dewy with tears.

 

The prince froze, withdrew his finger, and looked up when he heard footfalls echoing into the birthing hall.

 

They’d figured him out.

 

“Dante, Lust,” he said carefully, a tense greeting.

 

Dante strode toward the birthbath, mulberry robes swirling behind her. Lust followed, lifting her skirts and pulling a face when she got close enough to see the bloody water splashed around the tub.

 

The women stared impassively down at the boy. Amir whimpered. Karima shushed him and kept her head turned down, avoiding the gaze of the royals. Hohenheim stood and met his wife’s gaze. He took a deep breath and went to reach to her, then stopped himself.

 

“Envy has brothers, Dante.” He murmured.

 

“That bastardborne _slave_ is no kin of my son,” spat Dante, her lip curling, “no more than _Edward_ is, Van.”

Usama. She spoke his Xerxesian name like a curse.

 

Her fists were clenched tight at her sides, fury evident in every line on her face. Van Hohenheim stared, shocked, full of fear and dread for his sons. For Karima. For himself.

 

Alphonse began to cry.

 

“I just- I want a good life for them, they don’t have to be princes, I just want them to be free-” Hohenheim tried to explain, voice gentle but strained with panic.

 

“This cannot continue. I will _not_ allow it,” she interrupted him, eyes fiery.

 

Van became acutely aware of a din in the hallway- the sound of the palace guards marching towards them.

 

“What- Dante, what is this-”

 

Dante knelt and wrestled the babe out of the slavewoman’s arms. Karima wailed and tried to climb out of the bath; Lust swung a kick toward her head with her heeled boots and knocked her back into the water.

 

Two guards, armed with spears, shoved open the heavy doors to the birthroom.

 

“Get this _traitor_ out of my sight! And take that whore slave Trisha back to her quarters. Find that other bastard child, too. These runts need someone to feed them, and I’m not wasting a milkslave on them.” Dante commanded the guards, then swept out of the room, with Alphonse screaming in her arms.

 

_

 

_1917_

 

Perfect beings had no gender. They were God’s image, the embodiment of the Truth. This was a belief of the alchemists and, therefore, a belief of the people of Xerxes. The desert society was built on the values of alchemy, and their most central value was that of equivalent exchange.

 

This is what Ling was taught in his culture lessons. Well, “taught” is a loose word- more like he learned it by reading the encyclopedia volumes that Fu gruffly tossed his way every day. As a prince of Xing, he had to know as much as he possibly could about the countries that he would be dealing with when he became emperor- presuming, of course, that the twelfth in line for the throne would (could) ever secure the throne.

 

Ling could. He had a plan.

 

Xerxes had alchemy. Alchemy had- according to those books- Philosopher’s Stones. Philosopher’s Stones gave eternal life. Ling’s ailing father, the emperor of Xing, wanted life, more desperately than anything. And Ling? He wanted the throne.

 

Ling needed a Philosopher’s Stone. So, Ling needed Xerxes.

 

Simple.

 

So, when word reached Xing that the Circlet of Xerxes, Envy, had come of age, and that the Highborne sought a suitor for them, Ling left the oceans and fields of Yao lands and set off through Xing and into the desert.

 

Astride his camel, he narrowed his eyes and looked out across the sands over his caravan. After many long, hot days and freezing cold nights, the ancient city was finally visible on the hazy horizon.

 

Xerxes. His mother seemed to think he was absolutely mad when he announced his plan to make for the remote nation, but even she, who had constantly told Ling throughout his childhood that he did not need to chase the emperor’s favor and title, knew that his plan was the only way that the Yao clan could survive.

 

The emperor’s mind was failing. The stronger clans, those closer to the throne, were funneling supplies and funds into the capitol and their lands, starving millions of other Xingese without a thought.

 

The Yao clan was no exception.

 

Soon, their stores would be running out, and they’d only have what they were able to grow on the lands and catch from the sea to survive. To feed twenty thousand men, women, and children.

 

Ling had to succeed.

_

 

Edward stormed into his and Alphonse’s shared quarters, sweeping aside the heavy, scratchy woolen curtain that served as their door. The rough, sandstone-carved room was still cool, but the blazing desert sun had finally risen enough to begin beating through the cheesecloth that Ed had hammered onto their tiny window to keep the lizards from crawling in.

 

“His Royal Dickhead,” began Edward, throwing his hands in the air and pacing the length of the room, “wants a _cool_ bath, but he doesn’t _want_ to go to the _palace_ spring, he wants the public fountain, but he doesn’t want to _go_ to the public fountain, he wants me to _bring_ the water back-”

 

Alphonse stared at his brother reproachfully, and when Edward paused in his rant to take a deep breath, he sat up in his bed and chided him with, “You shouldn’t call the Circlet ‘he’, brother, they aren’t-”

 

“Envy screams at me that he’s a boy every single time he hears me say ‘they,’ and I don’t want to listen to it anymore. He doesn’t give a damn about what Dante says, and besides, it’s a personal thing. I may hate his damn guts, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t respect his ugly ass.”

 

Alphonse bit his lip.

 

“Just don’t say it in front of her.”

 

“I’m not stupid, Al.”

 

“I dunno…” he teased his brother with a smile. Edward rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

 

Al pushed himself off his mattress, stretched, and cracked his neck.

 

“How are you feelin’ today?” asked Ed.

 

“I’m alright-” Al coughed, and then again. He knelt over, his thin body shaking. Ed approached his brother and rubbed his back until the fit passed.

 

“It’s dry out today, and windy, maybe you should wear your mask-” Ed began, but Al, breathing hard, shook his head.

 

“It scares Pride.” he explained.

 

Ed pulled a face, conveying that he clearly didn’t give a single shit about frightening the princeling.

 

“He’s sweet, Ed, and just a little one. Xerxes isn’t his home. I don’t want to scare him anymore.” said Alphonse gently.

 

“Just take it with you,” Ed went to their wicker chest, knelt, and pulled out the mask, along with some clothes, which he tossed to Al. The mask was a simple thing that Pinako had made for Al during one of the rougher sicknesses, tightly-woven cheesecloth with straps to tie it onto Al’s head during days (like today) when it was particularly difficult to breathe. The clothes matched Ed’s own. A beige tunic, dark brown pants cinched at the ankle, and a deep eggplant-colored sash fastened around the waist, with matching cloth strips worn as a headband and a left-hand wristlet.

 

The linens marked them as slaves; the sashes as belonging to the Highborne, the ruling class of Xerxes. They’d worn the color since the day they were born.

 

Ed continued to paw through the chest until he finally found what he was looking for. He stood awkwardly, hugging a package wrapped in a thin blanket and tied with leather straps to his chest. He half-stumbled to his bed and sat down heavily, then began to unwind the straps from the package.

 

“Envy is literally doing this _just_ to be a pain in the ass,” he whined to Al, “I know it! He knows I have to change out legs and everything!”

 

“At least you have a heavy-duty leg to change into,” Al reminded him sternly, slipping on his wristlets.

 

“I’m sure Envy just wants to look good today. Their suitors are supposed to start arriving,” the younger boy continued, pulling off his shirt to change. Ed chanced a glance at his brother and chewed on the inside of his cheek when he saw exactly how visible Al’s ribs had become.

 

“Amir…” he started gently as his younger brother pulled his tunic over his head. Al’s eyes snapped to Ed’s.

 

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly. Ed knew better than to push it, and he returned to the task of unclipping his “indoor” prosthetic. He lifted the lightweight brass leg onto the bed and heaved the heavier bronze “outdoor” one to the floor. He hated it. It made his fucking stump hurt. He strapped it on.

 

Al padded across the room and watched his reflection in their tiny hammered-brass mirror as he tied his headband across his forehead. Ed stood and stamped his leg against the floor to make sure it was attached well, then walked over and gave his brother a squeeze around the shoulders.

 

“I’ll see you tonight, Ed,” Al leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder for a moment. Ed released him and pulled the sash off Al’s shoulder, then gently fashioned it around his waist. Al smiled softly, his dark red eyes meeting Ed’s golden in the mirror.

 

“Yeah. Hopefully they’ll make something decent for dinner,” Ed replied lightly as he headed toward the door, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

 

_

 

While his envoy set up camp just outside the city gates, Ling handed off his camel to one of the hired desert guides and meandered over to the food supplies tent. He badgered one of the women in charge of their stores and gifts for the Highborne until she gave him a rice cake and some salt cod. Yao clansfolk knew better than to deny Ling food because at this point it was impossible to tell if his food-related collapses were due to his dramatics or his middle _xiao-ke._

 

After his snack, he took a swallow of his sugary ginseng tincture and set off to explore the city. Lan Fan followed at a distance, his ever-present shadow.

 

Ling wandered aimlessly, taking in the sights. Xerxesian architecture was truly amazing, all tall pillars and beautiful carvings inlaid with precious stones. Dry, hot winds blew gently, lightly stirring the thin layer of sand atop the sandstone streets and fluttering the colorful linens hanging from windows, doors, and clotheslines stretched overhead.

 

As he drew closer to the city centre, he encountered more and more people going about their daily business. Street vendors hawked their goods; Ling caught a few words of the Xerxesian, such things as flatbreads, spiced cucumber relish, goat cheese and lamb-and-onion kebabs. His mouth watered, and he finally gave in and bought kebabs, one for himself and one for Lan Fan.

 

He waved it around in the air because he had literally no clue where she was. After a few moments, she appeared beside him and ripped off her mask but kept her hood drawn.

 

“Young Lord, you are being _reckless_ ,” she hissed. She still snatched the kebab and took a bite out of it, albeit angrily. Ling grinned and sucked an onion off the end of the skewer.

 

“There won’t be any assassins here,” he said cheerfully, watching passersby and ignoring the curious stares he and his companion were attracting. Xerxes was isolated both geographically and culturally; he doubted any average citizen had ever _seen_ a Xingese person.

 

“No Xingese, surely, but I don’t doubt that the other suitors would try-” Lan Fan began with urgency, but Ling waved off her concerns. She scowled at him and took a bite of meat.

 

After a few moments of silent walking, she spoke up again.

 

“We are supposed to be at the Highborne’s palace by sundown. Their letter said to expect a small feast before our party can settle into our quarters. You need to prepare. Let’s go back to camp and have a bath drawn-”

 

Ling interrupted her again. “I want to try out the Xerxesian public baths! I should familiarize myself with the culture, after all.” his voice was light, happy. Lan Fan deadpanned.

 

“I seriously doubt the Highborne, which you will be _married into,_ bathe in public,” she stressed, looking like she was ready to smack the prince upside the head and drag him back to his tent by the ear.

 

“I want the people to love me just as they love their own. It will help me, Lan.” Ling met her eyes, suddenly serious. She chewed her lip and nodded, though her eyes betrayed that she was still anxious.

 

“Right, then!” back to his normal sprightly self, Ling tore the last bit of meat off his kebab, tossed it into his mouth, and dropped the stick into one of the trash cans that peppered the streets of Xerxes. “A bath, and then we can head back to camp to change!”

 

He took off, and Lan Fan melted into the crowd, grumbling something about how the Young Lord would just get sweaty again on the walk back to the camp.

_  


Ed was _finally_ on his way back to get the last jug of water to fill up Envy’s stupid bathtub.

 

The jug was heavy. His leg was heavy. It was absorbing the heat. Ed was fucking sweaty. He could feel blisters forming where the brass rubbed at his stump.

 

He was fed the fuck up with walking and with Envy’s bullshit. But mostly Envy’s bullshit.

 

Grumbling to himself, Ed trudged over to the edge of the bath, careful to avoid stepping down into the gently-sloping blue painted tile where water pooled. One, because he didn’t want his leg to get wet. Two, because slaves were not permitted to get in.

 

It was for free citizens only.

 

Sure, people like Ed and Al could draw water here. For their masters. But God forbid they step into it.

 

Scowling, Ed held out the jug and caught a stream of the water merrily shooting out of one of the sun-shaped fountains along the edge of the pool. As the liquid drummed against the inside of the jug, filling it slowly, he watched the free children splash around, shrieking in delight, while their parents tried to wrangle them into a scrubbing.

 

Suddenly, a small but clear voice rang out close by.

 

“ _Wow!_ Mommy, look at that man!”

 

Ed looked up and saw a young child, dark-skinned enough that he may be of Ishvalan descent, pointing towards the southern side of the pool. His mother grabbed his hand and hissed some sharp words; probably something about how it was rude to point. Ed scanned the area where the child had pointed. There, a young man was unwinding his traveler’s scarf and stripping off his dusty-looking outerwear.

 

His hair was inky-black and poker-straight, a far cry from the sun-kissed locks of the Xerxesian people (Except for, of course, the Highborne). His skin was smooth and tanned, dark in the way that only travellers were. His eyes were the shape of the roasted almonds that Ed so often sneakily took by the handful from Envy’s room to share with Alphonse.

 

This man was from Xing.

 

Ed knew as much from listening in to Envy’s courtship lessons, as well as from a book that Izumi had once brought Alphonse as she was teaching them to read.

 

This man must be one of Envy’s suitors. The first to arrive.

 

This man was also staring directly at Ed.

 

And the jug was overflowing, splashing water directly onto Ed’s feet.

 

“Shitting _hell,_ ” he swore and jumped back, sloshing even more water onto the tile in the process and ignoring the dirty look the nearby mother gave him.

 

“Fuck,” he said again softly (but with feeling) as the water crept up the bottom of his pant legs.

 

Ed heard sniggering and sharply looked up at the Xingese suitor. The man’s shoulders were shaking with barely-contained laughter; he had one hand pressed to his mouth. His eyes were alight with glee when they met Ed’s.

 

He felt his face heat up and he scowled at the man before slapping a cork on the jug, slinging it over his shoulder, turning on his heel, and stomping back towards the palace.

 

Whatever. They’d get a serving girl for the chaperoned meetings between this man and Envy, and the guy would get some random slave boy assigned as his aid during his time during the palace. Ed could just ignore and avoid the guy until Envy inevitably ripped his heart out of his tanned, toned chest. And ate it.

 

Ed all but forgot about the encounter by the time he managed to slog all the way back to the palace- he was busy scheming, trying to think of some creative ways that he could swipe a flagon of cactuswine from the feast tonight without Dante noticing. He was sure that Envy wouldn’t give a shit, but the Circlet’s mother was a whole different matter.

 

Ed had seen her fury before. He wasn’t about to bring that upon himself, or Alphonse.

 

But the Highborne sure did eat some good food, and the feast would offer plenty of distractions…

 

When he was absorbed in his thoughts, it didn’t seem to take as long to get back to the palace. (Still didn’t make his fucking leg hurt any less.) When he arrived, he took the back way to Envy’s room through a series of side hallways that he wasn’t entirely sure anyone else knew about. At the Circlet’s quarters, he kicked the door in lieu of knocking and shouldered his way through the massive wooden monstrosities without waiting for a reply. Envy’s bed was huge and unmade, pillows scattered carelessly in the floor. Ed scowled. He’d have to pick that up later, of course.

 

Ed made his way into the bathroom, the clanging of his leg echoing through the high-ceilinged room, uncorked the water jug, and unceremoniously dumped it into the circular tub embedded in the floor. The room was a huge circle with massive windows draped with thick linens to keep out the winds and peeping eyes. The floor was inlaid with a tile pattern: the tub was a bright, sunny yellow, and tendrils of orange and yellow swirled out from it towards the room’s edges like sunbursts.

 

“Sire!” Ed hollered unceremoniously, “I’ve got your bath!”

 

“Quit fucking _yelling_ ,” the Circlet retorted as he loped into the bathroom from his solar. He was clad in his typical fashion: entirely inappropriately. His hair was yanked up into a bun; he wore a light green tunic and simple brown pants, both of which he’d taken a knife to. The tunic fell to his navel, where he had secured it by knotting it through itself. The pants were showing an absolutely excessive amount of thigh.

 

“Your ass is hanging out,” Ed observed drily, turning to fetch the goat’s milk soap, sweet-smelling almond and citrus oils, and scrubbing stone as Envy stripped. He heard the water slosh around and knew that the Highborne had stuck his foot in the water to test the temperature, as always.

 

“If you say you’ve changed your mind and want a warm bath I’m gonna-” Ed started, rounding on the royal and marching over to the tub.

 

“Shaddup, pipsqueak, it’s fine,” interrupted the Circlet, rolling his eyes. He reached up and yanked his hair down. It spilled down his back in a green-black flood. Envy sank into the water while Ed stirred the water into the usual bathtime concoction. The princelet didn’t react when the shorter man reached across the bath, yanked up his arm, and started aggressively scrubbing away.

 

“A suitor arrived,” Ed told Envy. The circlet groaned loudly.

 

“I know, Mother told me,” he whined, “and another is apparently showing up later.”  Ed switched to the other arm and rolled his eyes behind Envy’s back. The Circlet had been bitching about this marriage for approximately forever.

 

“How d’you wanna wear your hair tonight?” Ed asked, hoping to divert the conversation before Envy could start on _another_ tirade about the entire situation.

 

“I want to wear it up. Mother wants me to wear it down. So, we compromised and I’m wearing it down.” said Envy irritably. Ed nodded absentmindedly and started to wash Envy’s hair.

 

“I’ll pull the top back.” said Ed. They were silent for a few moments.

 

“Oh, speaking of tonight,” Envy started suddenly, “Mother said you’ve got to serve one of these suitors too.”

 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me,” Ed blurted, before he could stop himself. He cursed inwardly. The Xingese suitor flashed through his mind.

 

“I know, right?” Envy turned to Ed and threw his hands in the air. Ed stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

 

“I don’t share what’s mine, especially you, shortstuff.” Envy continued. Ed stiffened, clenched his teeth, but held his tongue for once. The ‘fuck you, asshole’ was still blatantly apparent in his eyes.

 

The Circlet chuckled mirthfully at the dark look on Ed’s face. He pulled himself out of the bath, and Ed tossed a fluffy woolen towel at him. He grabbed another, stood, and went to start brushing and drying the princelet’s hair. Once it was no longer dripping, Envy shoved him off.

 

“Go get me a snack. Some of those apricots. And some damn wine,” he instructed. Ed glowered at him for a moment, resolved to yank on his hair as hard as was physically possible later, then spun on his heel and left the Circlet’s rooms.

 

He was going to change into his other damn leg before he went to the kitchens.

 

-

The feast was held in the Highborne’s grand reception hall. It was unlike anything Ling had ever attended. The tables were low, carved out of massive slabs of white stone with rosy-dark swirls streaked through it. There were few chairs, but rather massive cushions and stools. Almost everything was eaten by hand after servants (not servants- slaves, he reminded himself darkly) spooned it onto the glazed clay platters before him. The wines were light- apricot and melon and, weirdly enough, cactus. The foods were strange but delicious; there were slices of lamb served with flatbreads covered in a creamy, zesty sauce and cool, spiced salads made with cucumber and melon.

 

Another suitor had arrived later that afternoon, an Amestrian named Zolf J. Kimblee. He had a large nose, shifty eyes, and wore a white Western-style suit and hat. His headwear did nothing to hide the fact that his hair was greasy and stringy.

 

Ling wore a simple yellow silk changshan with black cording along the neck and sleeves. He had planned on wearing his hair down in an effort to ramp up the sex appeal, but Fu had lectured him about formality and first impressions until he gave in and pulled it into a sleek topknot.

 

The introduction of the suitors had been a clipped, formal affair before the start of the feast; the ceremonial Presentation of the suitors would occur later during Ling’s stay in Xerxes, after the rest of the suitors from surrounding countries and regions arrived. Until that presentation, suitors were not permitted to be in the Circlet’s company.

 

Ling didn’t plan on obeying that rule.

 

The Circlet and their family, the Highborne, sat upon a long, uncomfortable-looking white marble bench atop a dias at the far end of the reception hall. They were all pale, statuesque, dignified. Their robes were all the same aubergine color, but each individual wore them differently. The fat, bald one called Gluttony looked like a monk, with long sleeves and the flowing cloth fastened over his massive gut with a red rope. Lust, aptly named, with her deep black hair tumbling down her shoulders, a plunging neckline, and a slit to reveal enough leg to make any man blush. Young Pride’s was cut more simply than the others’; he wore a short-sleeved tunic and black pants. His feet did not reach the floor, and he swung them wildly about throughout the introduction.

 

Close by the Circlet sat their mother, Dante. Her face was angular, the sharp line of her jaw accentuated by blunt, asymmetrically-cut hair. She wore her robe as a long, simple, sleeved tunic, with a small triangle of fabric cut out at the middle of her collarbone.

 

All paled in comparison to the Circlet. Their hair was pulled back to expose their face, all sharp angles and creamy skin. The rest tumbled down their back, a silky green-black; their dark eyes were lined with kohl, their eyelids painted a deep purple. They wore robes of a deep black that seemed to shimmer with their every move.

 

Upon their head sat a small but exquisite crown of twisted silver inlaid with a single bloodred stone.

They looked positively miserable.

 

They didn’t speak a single word through the introductions. When their mother’s cool voice called out Ling’s voice, he stepped forward and held their gaze, a small smile dancing upon his lips. He bowed low, arm across his stomach.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” Ling said, voice low.

 

The Circlet inclined their head, stony-faced.

 

On his way back up, Ling’s eyes flitted across the rest of the Highborne, and then behind them. A row of stoic slaves stood against the wall, hands clasped at their fronts and faces blank. Gluttony’s was a massive hulking man with arms the size of tree trunks, dark hair, and a beard. Behind Lust stood a young girl with pink bangs. Dante had a shapely woman with black dreadlocks and a tattoo peeking out from under her tunic. A sickly-looking, dark-skinned teen with a shock of white hair and red eyes stood at Pride’s back.

 

Behind Envy, with his face screwed up in a scowl, stood the gorgeous man that Ling had encountered hours earlier at the public baths.

 

He was absolutely fucking stunning.

 

His skin was bronze, his eyes gold, hair like the sun itself had been spun into its silken strands. When Ling had first seen him across the sparkling water of the public pool, he had sucked in a breath sharply, like he’d been punched in the gut, struck by beauty like he’d never seen before.

 

And now that Ling looked upon this man for a second time, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was absolutely fucked.

 

Ling winked before he could think, with the afterthought of, _I hope Envy thought that was for them._

 

The blonde caught his gaze, flushed a very pretty pink, and dropped his golden eyes to the floor.

 

Absolutely _fucked_.

 

-

 

Ed hadn’t managed to steal any _damn_ cactuswine, but Al, the charming bastard, had sweet-talked the wizened old slavewoman carrying the leftovers back to the kitchens to give them a whole unopened bottle and some leftover sweets.

 

It was the thought of that bottle, the thought of going deep into the gardens with his brother, Winry, sweet wine and even sweeter baklava that helped Ed push through the last of his duties that evening.

 

Envy had been in an absolutely foul mood; he’d ripped off his crown so hard that he’d pulled out some hair and nearly torn his robes in his haste to get out of his formalwear. After Ed managed to get him out of the offending garment, Envy had promptly screamed at him to fuck off and slammed the door so quickly that it whacked his ass on his way out.

 

Ed kicked the door and hollered some choice words, then stalked down the hallway and through the rest of the palace towards the east wing, where the suitor he was assigned to serve was staying.

 

He truly couldn’t imagine a worse situation; he would either be waiting on that slimy Amestrian motherfucker or that Xingese shithead. Kimblee was fucking creepy and had looked at Envy like he was a piece of meat. The Xingese one- Ed felt his face heat up despite himself- well, he just felt like trouble.

 

When Ed finally arrived at the room, he took a quick breath to steel himself, shook out his shoulders, then rapped on the door.

 

He bowed, bent from his hips to ninety degrees as he’d been taught, and waited.

 

The door opened after a few moments; candlelight flooded the corridor.

 

“I am Edward, milord. The Highborne have assigned me to serve you as a token of gratitude for your suitorship of our esteemed Circlet. I am honored to present myself to you, and I hope to make your stay in Xerxes as pleasant as possible,” he rattled off, hoping it wasn’t possible for someone to hear him rolling his eyes.

 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you will,” a smooth voice replied.

 

Ed stood and came face-to-face with a shirtless Xingese prince, eyes glinting in the darkness, dark hair falling softly to his shoulders, loose pants slung low on his hips.

 

“I’m Ling. It’s a pleasure.”

 

The prince smiled gently, cocking his head to the side.

 

Motherfucking _shit._

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY HI SOME HOUSEKEEPING NOTES:
> 
> please holler at me me on twitter @aizawa_head !!!!!!!! i'm also on tumblr @flapkack but don't use it much. 
> 
> i am in college and because of that, this work will have NO set update schedule. i'm sorry about it but i'm like. constantly dying so this will be a leisure project.
> 
> HOWEVER.
> 
> this fic is my baby and it WILL be finished. i've not attempted a multichapter work in a hot minute so we'll just have to see how it goes. 
> 
> i really hope y'all enjoy!!
> 
> ps chapter titles are from songs, bonus points to those who guess what theyre from!


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